Ahh, back in the saddle again.
Unfortunately, there is no ownership contract in the saddle bag.
224 days before...
There were only two words the pilot could think of to describe his boss' ward's manner as he sat with his fiancee on the private jet: happy and nervous. Happy, obviously because he was marrying someone who could only be described as an angel on earth. However, thoughts like those were bad, and so the miserable man rubbed his wedding band to a ring of gold powder on his finger as he remembered his nagging shrew of a wife who he was, regretfully, still married to. More importantly though, he fervently reminded himself that a P-O'ed Richard Grayson could we twice as scary as the little woman when she worked herself into a lather.
At least Anita would leave a few pieces of my body around. Mr. Grayson would not be so kind. Eyes off the broad Abel, focus on the puffy white clouds...
Although, the boss and the ball-and-chain were actually the second and third reasons why any contact with Kori Anders would be ill-advised. No, the first reason was also the reason why Richard looked like he was about to meet the boogey-man.
Kori's protector and guardian Galfore was excellent incentive to think monk-like thoughts when around the beauteous red head. The guy looked like he could squash you with his little finger.
And judging from the complaints Richard was spouting, he was a little more than adverse to meeting such a man.
"Come on Kori, we've been engaged for only a week, do we really have to drop everything and go meet my future father-in-law right now?"
"Richard, do you have any idea just how much you sound like a little kid begging off going to the principal's office?"
"Kor-riiiiiiii...."
"Why am I marrying you again?"
A long silence, broken by a smacking sound.
"Reminded?"
"Not really...I think I need more convincing..."
Another sudden silence.
Puffy white clouds Abel, just focus on those puffy white clouds...hey, that one looks like Glgrdsklechhh!
Back in the cabin, the happy couple were oblivious to their pilot's plight, so wrapped up were they in their own things. Richard with fretting, Kori with planning, and both with kissing and hand holding and other such gushy things.
However, Kori wasn't particularly keen on joining the Mile High Club just yet, so the gushiness was thankfully left to a minimum. The less temptation, the better, she thought as she watched her fiancee pick up his drink with habitual aristocratic grace. She forced herself to tear her eyes away before the glass made it to his lips. There was something sooo...interesting about watching his mouth and throat when he drank. X'hal, she despaired, I must be in love if the way the man drinks gets to me. I wonder if he knows how hard it is for me not to jump him sometimes. Ah well, so we agreed on September 25, should it be early or late afternoon? Then again, after who-knows-how-many toasts I'll see him drink to for the rehearsal dinner maybe we should get married ASAP. Ugh, the next six months are going to be torture.
Both of them had decided to wait til the wedding to cross the intimacy threshold. Well, at first, only one of them was really on board with this course of action, and it wasn't the (semi-retired) womanizing playboy. However, on discovery that Kori had never actually crossed said threshold...the decision was quickly made mutual.
He still reeled at this knowledge. Kori was a vi...a vir...a very patient woman, and it was a stinking miracle. How the holy hell did he manage to be the guy she saved himself for? Well, whatever the reason, he wasn't going to question it. He hadn't had a serious relationship that didn't involve sex since...actually, he had never had a serious relationship that didn't involve sex. In fact, most of his relationships were really just extended one night stands. Feelings of scumbaggery promptly descended. It was just so foreign to him, someone making the promise and actually keeping it...it was so outdated...and honorable. And to know that he (of all people) was to be not just her first, but only...it was humbling. As a matter of fact, it sort of made him wish he had waited too, even though it was pretty impossible, considering his upbringing.
But then again, he remembered his mother's words to the knife thrower's assistant, who had just been caught behind the seal tank with the hypnotist. When Mary Grayson warned the girl that she could do something she would regret if she wasn't careful, the young woman fearlessly declared that "she loved him and they were going to be together for the long haul. Besides Mrs. Grayson couldn't say that she hadn't sampled the milk before she bought the cow."
Mary replied with words he never forgot, "First of all, never refer to anyone so callously ever again. Second, John and I made the decision to wait together. Love may be fueled by intimacy, but friendship, closeness in spirit, understanding and learning about one another is what gives it life. How can you possibly focus on learning about each other when your mind is occupied with what you could be doing in the bedroom? Yes, waiting was hard for us both, but it was the best thing we could've done for our marriage. It made our wedding much more special, and most importantly, it tested and strengthened our relationship, it forced us to talk and lay a foundation that helped us through so many tough spots during the first few years of our marriage. And we've made it this far because those months taught us how to be friends. Because if two people expect to live together forever and can't be friends, how could they ever be anything else?"
Remembering his mother's advice, his self-image took another dive. That is, until two warm hands caressed his face and two equally warm lips captured his. After a few moments of bliss his fiancee released him and stared at him with stern adoring green eyes. "No one depresses Richard, not even himself."
"How'd you know?"
"I'm going to be your wife, I had better start learning how to read your mind."
Smiling and sifting through her hair, Richard knew they were doing the right thing. The smile turned into a grin as he recalled what his mom had said after that, "And frankly Kid, and don't tell anyone I said this, but the milk? It tastes a lot better when the cow has chewed the cud for a while."
"Mrs. G!!!"
"I'm serious, the night we said our 'I do's' made every last bit of sexual frustration worthwhile, because it was all-"
"Please please stop! You two are like my aunt and uncle, I don't want to hear it!"
"Oh, but you would rather find out about it for yourself? Well let me tell you-"
"LALALALALALALA!"
"So what are you working on anyway?"
"Checklist."
"Checklist?"
"Yes checklist."
"We have a checklist?"
"You are surprised we have a checklist?"
"You don't strike me as the type to have a checklist."
"Well, for the next six months you will definitely learn that I am the type to have a checklist."
"So, its a wedding checklist?"
"Of course its a wedding checklist."
"No need to give me the evil eye. Did you make up the checklist?"
"No, a magazine made the checklist."
"The plans for our wedding are based on some magazine checklist?"
"Hey, this was a great magazine! Talked about weddings rationally and logically...and it had a nifty checklist."
"Have you noticed that we've ended everything we said with the word checklist?"
"...Oh wow you're right...haha, the best part is you just ended another sentence with 'checklist'."
"..."
"...And so did I."
"Hey you broke the curse! No more sentences ending with checklist!"
"..."
"Augh!"
"Poor baby."
"I'm no baby, I'm a man!"
"Suuure you are."
"Anyway, where did you get the magazine?"
"I actually got it a long time ago at the washateria in my apartment complex. Someone puts new ones in there all the time, I read them while I do my laundry, and leave them for other people to look at. But occasionally, I would find a really good article and copy it down, like this checklist here."
"OK, so what does it say?"
"Well, its sort of a schedule really; all about what you should do and when. Right now for instance, we're at the six month mark, and its the time to 'discuss plans with future spouse and in-laws'."
"Lemme see that."
Wedding Checklist
Six or more months ahead
(x) Discuss plans with future mate, in-laws, and parents.
(x) Decide on the size and type of wedding.
(x) Work out budget.
( ) Check legal requirements.
( ) Book reception location.
( ) Contact photographer.
Four months
( ) Choose (from existing wardrobe), purchase, or sew wedding garments.
( ) Order flowers.
( ) Choose and order invitations.
Two months
( ) Send invitations.
( ) Purchase rings.
( ) Obtain necessary documents.
One month
( ) Try on wedding outfits.
( ) Confirm any appointments and orders made.
( ) Write thank you gifts for any gifts already received.
Two weeks
( ) Start taking personal belongings to new accommodations.
One week
( ) Make sure all helpers know what's expected of them.
( ) Arrange for return for any hired or borrowed things.
( ) Delegate everything possible to others.
"Wow, this is a good checklist."
"Told you."
"So what exactly do we need to discuss with Galfore?"
"First of all, you must ask permission to marry me."
"Permission? How old are you?"
"I know it sounds a little old fashioned, but its customary where I'm from to ask the parent pr guardian of the woman permission to marry or at least for them to sanction the marriage. That's more likely what you'll need to request, Galfore knew that letting me stay in America meant letting me make my own choices, including who would be my groom."
"Wait, you mean if you had gone back to Tamaran, you would've been set up with another guy?"
"Its not unheard of."
"I am so glad you stayed...why did you come to America anyway?"
"When I was about 12, times were somewhat hard in our land, what with my sister being passed over as heir-"
"Wait, I knew you had a sister, but what's this about heirs?"
"Ummm...well, you see, I am somewhat of a...cultural princes."
"Come again?!"
"OK, I need to start from the beginning. (Sit back and order another drink.) You know how long ago traders and merchants would need to sail around the bottom of Africa to get around the world?"
"Yeah."
"A merchant vessel, carrying passengers as well, were traveling near The Shipwreck Coast when they were hit with a violent storm and-"
"Let me guess, were shipwrecked?"
"The coast has that name for a reason. Fortunately for those on the ship, although it was run aground on the rocks, there were no casualties and most of the cargo stayed intact. Unfortunately, the food storage wasn't among the preserved cargo. But while the crew was trying to repair, they survived on whatever edible vegetation they found.
"One of the passenger's daughter, a small girl with white-blonde hair, wandered about the exotic land they were marooned on. She spotted a boat off the coast, and waved it over. In it were a group of men, members of a native tribe who were participating in their coming-of-age ritual. When a boy turned a certain age, he, his father, his peers, and their fathers would travel to the sea and attempt to catch a great fish or some other ocean-dwelling creature. Whatever they caught was made into and ornament they always wore, and the carving became their identifying crest of sorts. Until then, they had never seen a white man before, and when they pulled ashore and the girl approached, they fell to the ground, believing she was a god.
"The girl was too young to take advantage of the natives or be frightened of them, all she remembered was that her father and the merchants on the ship wanted to trade with the American Indians, and the men had many fish in their canoe.
"She wanted to ask them for a fish, but her mother had always taught her it was shameful to ask for something you were capable of getting yourself. She took off the small pearl ring she wore and offered it to one of the boys, pointing at his spear and asking for it in return. The boy would've probably given his weapon to the small goddess anyway, but took the ring regardless. And before any of them could ask the reason for the deity social call, the girl had hiked up her skirts and was headed into the waves, determined to catch some food for her family."
"Interesting mental image."
"After a few minutes of watching her unsuccessful attempts, the boy who had her ring went out to help her. By that time, the crew and the girl's family was searching for her, and when they found her, she was gleefully learning how to cook the small gray fish she had speared.
"The tribesmen and the men from the ship developed a way to communicate, then the natives split into two groups: some to stay and help with repairs, and others to return home and inform their fellow villagers about the 'fierce little white-haired hunter' and her tribe.
"And fierce she was. The girl was the mediator between the peoples, and defended both when either was being treated unfairly. She became somewhat of an ambassador, along with the boy who still had her ring and was now best friends with. They both learned all they could about each others worlds, while the grown ups traded and learned from one another. Eventually, the boat was repaired. But most of the people didn't want to leave.
"Those who had families and businesses back in England returned home, but several stayed, including the girl's family. They joined the tribe who had shown such kindness to them, and all who joined were determined to repay the debt in full.
"As time passed, more men from the home they had left came to where they were, asking about colonization and the like, and they always answered that the villagers were peaceful, had nothing England would want, and not to worry, they were educating the so-called savages.
"After many years, even after the white men had arrived on the shores of Africa and started to take over, they always left the village alone, confident that their work of 'educating the savages' had been done for them. In a way though, it had. The natives had learned English and how to read and other such things Englishmen found important, but it was an interchange of education. The rift between black man and white man…here, it did not exist. Their peace and prosperity was noted, and although some bigoted men didn't approve, the village called 'Tamaran', the inhabitants, and the lands they owned, were viewed an unofficial country within the land that would someday be called South Africa; untouched, unhampered, and the land where I hail from."
"So how are you princess of the place?"
"The little girl? She became known among the people as X'hal, which means, 'white warrior', and she ended up marrying the boy who she gave the ring to. Ironically, he gave it back to her when they got engaged. They had many children, and one of their daughters married the chief's son. From there, the Anders line is descended. That's why my skin color is a little odd, there was much interracial marrying in my land, although it was never an issue. Never really noticed actually. Colors have never mattered much to my people."
"That's admirable, and an incredible story. How do you know so much about it though?"
"X'hal kept a diary. Much more accurate than word of mouth."
"So you guys are like a little island in a sea of land?"
"Sort of. I mean, officially, we're apart of South Africa, but for the most part, the government leaves us alone. We never give them any trouble, so there's never been any need for interference. Besides, the history and relationships shared between the races in my culture are more respectable than most, and are considered worth preserving."
"How preserved is it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are there still grass huts and people walking around wearing leaves? Although…I wouldn't mind so much the latter in your case-"
"Richard, we've embraced the 21st century. And while the houses are made of logs with grass roofs, they have internet access in them. And sorry to disappoint you, but people don't wear leaves."
"No leaves?"
"No leaves."
"Awww."
"Grow up Richard."
"Make me."
As the plane reached its cruising height and the stewardess refilled their drinks, Richard noticed a sudden change in Kori. Her movements, while always graceful, took on a refined, almost regal quality. She sat up straighter, and did everything with her left hand. Most noticeable was her voice, it grew slightly higher in pitch, but with a commanding overtone, and her so-called accent, the one she reverted to when nervous or angry, came back in full force. Even stranger, she started to get agitated, staring at her sketchbook, fiddling with her pencil, sneaking glances at Richard when she thought he wouldn't notice (although he did).
He knew that asking her what was making her so antsy wouldn't bear fruit, if she wanted him to know, she would've told him But seriously, this was starting to make him twitch. But before he could break down and ask, his cell phone rang.
"Grayson," he answered, and noticed Kori's eyes light with hope.
"Hi Mr. Grayson, its Kole. I have the number of the Gotham Hall Director like you wanted." Richard instantly glanced at Kori, wondering if she by some miracle had heard his PA's words.
It didn't seem that she had, as her entire focus seemed to be on sneaking her fingers to her sketchpad.
At an attempt to divert, "Ryan, you better have not done what I think you did."
"What?" came the confused reply.
"I can't discuss that here, the chicken is still in Piccadilly Square."
"…Are you feeling OK Mr. Grayson?"
"Ugh, hang on." Reaching over, he tapped Kori's shoulder, whose fingers were mere inches from their destination, "Kor."
His fiancee proceeded to jump about a foot in the air, shrieking like ice had been slipped down her back. The comical properties of the moment turned hysterical because in the matter of a second, she was composed and still, hands folded neatly in her lap and a serene smile on her face. "Yes Richard?" she inquired innocently.
He was itching to find out what had her so keyed up, but he had a confused PA on the phone, first things first. "I need to go take this call."
"All right, I will remain here."As he left the main cabin, he heard his fiancee let out a sigh of relief, followed by the rustling of paper, then by the scratching as a pencil marked the paper.
Closing the door to the small bedroom in the back of the plane, he let out an exasperated sigh into the phone. "Never be a secret agent Kole, you suck at understanding code."
"I'll alert the CIA," the pink-haired secretary informed sarcastically, "they'll be brokenhearted. Anyway, like I said, I have the number for the Director of Gotham Hall. Do you want to call and reserve it or should I?"
"I'll do it, I'm friends with the lady, sort of."
"All right then, I'll see you when you get back, hopefully in one piece. I saw the picture of Kori's guardian, and I sure hope you brushed up on your martial arts Mr. Grayson, it looks like you'll need them."
"Thanks for that calming bit of words Kole, see you in 10 days." He clicked the phone shut and opened it again, dialing the number Kole gave him.
"Hello?"
"Ms. Dewald?"
"This is her daughter."
"Oh yes, I remember you, though I doubt you do me. Keilah right?"
"Yes…may I ask who's calling?"
"Oops, sorry, I forgot my manners. This is Richard Grayson."
A gasp that was half a squeal sounded from the receiver, "Mr. Grayson, of course I remember you! You and your father came to my cello recital at my mom's hall!"
"I'm flattered you remembered my attendance Miss Dewald."
"Oh please, you can call me Keilah Mr. Grayson."
"Only if you call me Richard. How is your musical prowess going?"
"Well. I'm studying Rachmaninoff."
"Excellent, I look forward to hearing you play in The Hall. Save me a seat?"
"Of-of course."
"And speaking of The Hall, may I speak to your mother?"
"Sure!"
"Thanks Keilah. Don't forget me when you're playing the Phil Harmonic."
"I won't…Richard. Here's mom." He smothered a grin as a dreamy sigh drifted to his ears.
"Cindy here."
"Ms. Dewald, Richard Grayson, how are you?"
"I'm fine Richard, and so, apparently is my daughter. Now I'm not sure what just happened between you and Keilah, but I can guess. My question is, though, shouldn't you be charming that sweet-looking red-haired girlfriend of yours and not my 15-year-old?"
"Actually, she just became my fiancee."
There was a pause. "Congratulations Richard," said the director with genuine warmth, but her tone returned to stern, "Then all the more reason not to be wasting your charisma on Keilah."
"Charm is something this world sorely lacks Ms. Dewald, and I never waste it, especially when its to someone who deserves it, like your little prodigy. Besides, she should learn to differentiate between genuine charmers and fakes, she'll have to worry about them soon, if she isn't already. Let me know if I need to put some upstart young men in their places."
"Oh rest assured Richard, I have that potential hazard well taken care of." The satisfaction in the overprotective mother's voice sent chills down Richard's spine.
I sure don't doubt that, he thought with sympathy for all of Keilah's future boyfriends. Only the brave and the bold would be able to stand up to the challenge of courting Keilah Dewald. Because while she was plenty pretty (silky brown hair, clear grey-blue eyes, and porcelain skin) her 5'8" mother with a fierce protective streak and more than enough will and money to destroy all who was not worthy of the musical artist was a strong deterrent.
Ah well, he reconsidered, that'll mean any guy willing to put with Mom-in-law will have to be serious. But still, the poor guy had better wear a football cup. "I bet you do Ms. Dewald, but I didn't go though the trouble of finding your unlisted number to talk about your daughter's future love life.
"I certainly hope not Richard. And for Pete's sake, call me Cindy. Its not like we're at some snazzy soiree with the big wigs making sure we aren't running away together because we use each others first names."
Richard grinned. Once her precious daughter's virtue or career was no longer threatened, Cindy could be really funny.
A fact that he was counting on.
"Well Cindy, I'm calling about something I hope you will keep under wraps."
"What, that you're marrying that pretty redhead? Or that you want to use my Hall for the wedding."
Blue eyes popped, and the black brows above them raised in surprise. "How did you know?"
"Richard, why else would you be calling? Unless it was to discuss my daughter's future romances, which is something I advise against. For one, its none of your business, and two, you have bigger fish to fry such as when the date of your matrimony to..."
"Kori," he supplied, "Kori Anders, and we decided September 25."
"Ahh, six months away, and the weather will be cool; very wise. How many do you expect to attend?"
"A small wedding is impossible, obviously, so while we would prefer less than 100, it'll probably end up being somewhere around five."
"Such is the burden of a celebrity. Oh well, see you in September."
"Wait!" he cried, "that's it?"
"Richard Grayson, playboy of Gotham, is getting married? This I have to see, and the only way I will is if you're kept busy with your future wife. Now I'll call that sweet PA of yours, Kole is it? And get all the business aspects taken care of. You go spend time with your fiancee Richard. Bye."
As the other line went dead, Richard stared at the phone. And grinned.
When he returned to the main cabin of the plane, he found that Kori has abandoned her seat and was scribbling away, lying on the couch that was right before the stewardess quarters. A few papers, obviously rejected sketches, were in a trash nearby, but the odd part was that they were shredded into confetti. Apparently, Kori didn't want anyone to know what she was working on, or even have a guess with the rejects as reference.
But, it seemed that this sketch satisfied her, for she pulled back form her work, studied it, and smiled. She seemed about to use her eraser to make minor adjustments, but Richard knew he couldn't wait anymore.
"Whatcha doin?" His fiancee's head shot up in surprise, closed her book, and sat up in almost one motion.
"It is nothing, you need not concern yourself with it at this time Richard. Please, what was the call you received in reference to?"
He was about to remind Kori that she was an awful liar and an even worse divergent, when another question took priority in his mind. "Why are you talking like that?"
Kori's eyes darkened in regret, "Do you find it...the annoying?"
"No!" he denied instantly, somewhat surprised to realize it was true, "I'm just a little worried. You only talk like that when you're stressed; is the reason you stayed in America because of something that happened at home? Something bad?" His low tone and piercing narrow eyes promised total retribution if this was the case.
"Be calm Richard, I am delighted to see Tamaran again, I have been feeling a little of that sick home feeling lately." She paused, thought a moment, and sighed, patting the seat next to her. "Sit, it is another lengthy story.
"X'hal, in addition to learning Tamaranian, taught her husband and the natives English, and while most of the villagers adapted to the idioms and colloquial aspects of the language, X'hal's husband did not ever fully grasp them and always spoke like the way I do now. Their daughter also spoke like this, in imitation of her father. However her husband, the chief, found this way of speaking adorable, and required their own children to speak in this fashion, particularly the heir.
"It became a tradition, the members of the Anders family are to speak in this way, the heir more so than others."
"Archaic tradition."
"My culture is an odd one. While we embrace technology and the advances made in science wholeheartedly, we cling fiercely to our traditions. The men, for instance, still travel with their sons to the sea. Which reminds me, while we are on Tamaran, until the announcement has been made that we are betrothed, you should refrain from touching--MY SKETCHPAD! RICHARD GRAYSON, RELEASE THAT SKETCHBOOK NOW PLEASE!"
"Not unless you tell me what you drew...before I open it and find out anyway," he retreated a few feet away, and lifted the cover threateningly.
"No!" she jumped up, but refrained from moving closer when the cover was lifted farther. "All right," she conceded, "It is the sketch of my wedding dress."
There was a long pause, then the cover lifted still higher. "Richard!" she screeched, "you said you would give it back!"
"No I didn't."
"Richard, you give me my sketchbook now."
"Why are you so bothered by this?"
"I do not wish for you to see the dress before the wedding."
"Why, because it'll supposedly bring bad luck?"
"Of course not, you are well aware that I do not believe in that superstition."
"Then why?"
"I wish for it to be...a surprise."
"Kori, I hate surprises--HEY!" The sketchbook was taken from him suddenly, and Kori had it behind her, standing tall, head high, daring him to take it back.
"I do not care if you dislike surprises or to be...the loser. You will be surprised Mr. Grayson."
The "Mr. Grayson" did him in. Kori was incapable of budging when she got all cheeky like that. It was as irritating as it was attractive.
That sparked an idea. "Fine," he pouted,"...Its a shame though."
"Why is that?"
"Well, knowing what the dress looks like can be useful. I would've known what tuxedo would go with it--"
"It is white with a long skirt."
"--And it would've given me something to look forward to."
"What is that?" Another step back
Another advancement, "I would have had fun imagining you in it…" he leaned forward until she sat back onto the sofa "And occasionally without it." his voice turned a husky tenor at this point, and Kori's glare was noticeably lacking frost. This was probably due to the plethora of emotions flicking through her expressive green eyes, each indiscernible, but all screaming, "Kiss me!"
Richard cheerfully obliged.
Of course, the intent of this had been to sneak the drawing from her, and sure enough, the sketchbook was dropped onto the couch as the hand that once held it clung to the back of his neck. Richard smirked, but continued to kiss her. They were way overdue on kissing. Only four times that day! That would have to be fixed.
Unfortunately, this kiss would have to be cut short, as he would soon fall prey to the drugs he swore Kori slipped into her lip gloss and lose all brain activity. Then he would never find out what that sketchbook held; the curiosity was killing him.
His fingers trailed past her waist, down her hip, just barely touched the paper...when her hand slammed down on it, like she was squashing a bug.
His eyes popped open and met hers, which were laughing at his predictability.
Distantly, both realized that they both looked ridiculous, having a staring contest while locked in first base position. But it didn't last very long. In a flash, Kori had disengaged their mouths and was running to the back of the plane, sketchbook in hand.
Then it happened.
Richard reached out and grabbed Kori's fleeing wrist, too late remembering that aggressive actions like that prompted defensive reactions in Kori.
And as she whirled around, fist sailing toward his head, Richard realized that he had instigated their first big fight.
At the last minute though, she thankfully remembered who she was about to hit, opened her hand, and slowed down enough not to cause serious damage. As it was, stars still dances across his vision, and his ear rang from where her palm connected. To his credit, he stayed up, only stumbled a foot, and his grip on Kori's wrist stayed firm. Which he used to jerk her toward him when his eyes cleared and a wave of anger passed over him. It dissipated, though, when he saw the worry in his fiancee's eyes. "Are you injured?"
"If I said I was, would you show me the picture?" A mouth, once frowning in concern, opened in shock. Then closed tightly in anger. The tan hand holding the book calmly tucked it under her trapped arm. In a blur of motion, it shot forward and deftly pinched the pressure point in Richard's shoulder, inciting a quick release.
But when she made another break for it, long, quick fingers looped around her belt and held firm. Clothes-lined at the waist, she jerked to a stop. Knowing she had no hope of keeping the book in her trapped state, she tossed it away. Fluttering to the floor, both parties were still as they watched the descent. Then everything broke into motion at once. Kori dropped to her knees, dragging Richard with her, but he unhooked his fingers, placed his hands on his wife-to-be's shoulders, and essentially leap-frogged over her head. Or at least, he started to. Nary a step was made on his part before Kori jabbed her knuckles into the backs of his knees and down her future husband went.
As he landed in a kneel, it was Kori this time who placed her hands on his shoulders, except instead of using him as a vault, she had him get more familiar with the jet's carpet than he would have preferred. He "oofed" as she deposited her entire self on his back.
"This is ridiculous, you do realize this?"
"Absolutely," two legs wrapped themselves around her torso and pulled. Once again, the tables were turned, and Kori was on her back with Richard seated on her waist. "But screaming matches are overrated, let other couples have them."
A grin and a scowl battled for dominance, but neither would have done much good, since they were both directed at his back.
The grin won. "All right, but if we are to resolve our differences with violence, you will have to get of of me now please."
"If you cant get out of this by yourself Kori Anders, than you are beneath me in more ways than one."
Her face flamed in embarrassment and anger. He was right, of course, all she would have to do is jerk her arms free of his grasp and push him off.
Which is exactly what she did. He tumbled to the floor with a laugh and Kori rolled to her feet, assuming a ready position. Richard took one as well, and had the audacity to actually do the cliched "bring it" wave.
Kori surged forward with a small cry.
This was heard by the new stewardess Ashley, who had been getting acquainted with the layout of the little stewardess lobby, accompanied by her trainer, Kay-lee. Both women exchanged startled looks at the sound, and even more so when there was a loud thump, followed by a masculine grunt.
Fearfully, Ashley drew back the curtain leading to the main cabin. What was seen beyond it made Ashley's jaw fall in astonishment and Kay-lee's eyes roll in amused disdain.
Richard Grayson, normally reserved and collected CEO of Wayne Enterprises, was currently fighting with his fiancee, Jinx's Closet's Junior Designer Kori Anders, of whom both women had impressions of a sweet, peaceful lady. And this wasn't your ordinary fight, with yelling and accusations being thrown. This was a true fight, where the things that were thrown were fists, and with a power that said "if you don't block/dodge this blow you will be left with a huge welt." Ashley hoped this wouldn't happen, for both of their sakes. If they showed up at Ms. Anders hometown with battle wounds, the resulting conversation would undoubtedly be...strained. The rookie stewardess wondered if she should intervene before something--or someone--got broken.
"Wow, Ms. Anders' kicks are excellent, she has good balance. But...her punches need work, she overextends herself." Kay-lee paused in her commentary and glanced over.
Her greenhorn coworker was staring at her like she had crowed like a rooster. Looking back at the couple, she determined that Kori could handle herself, and if the grins on the opponents' faces were any indication, this match was likely going to end in a "draw."
"Come on, you still need to learn where the ice trays go." She tugged on the newbie's arm, but Ashley was rooted with shock.
"You want to just, leave them like that?!"
"Sure, why not? This happens all the time."
"What?!"
"This isn't the first fight that's happened on this plane, believe me, it'll be fine."
"Who fought on this plane?"
"Well, Mr. Wayne used to, but he's gotten a little old for that. Mr. G does it all now, and its mainly been with martial arts instructors, some trying to get him used to fighting on unpredictable ground (they have Abel jerk the plane around and its nauseating) and other just because they were mad at him. Otherwise, there were a couple business acquaintances who knew how to fight and wanted to spar, and once, there was a little tiff with a kickboxing finalist when she found out he was dumping her. Poor guy wore sunglasses for a week until the black eye faded.
"Anyway, in the unlikely event that you're not making ice, you put--"
"But, shouldn't we...do something?"
Kay-lee paused, "You want to get in the middle of that?" she jerked her head at what lay beyond the curtain.
Ashley started to open her mouth, but as an "AGH! uhhh..." drifted to their ears, she closed it and shook her head.
Kay-lee smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it. Just be glad you don't have Alfred's job!"
Meanwhile...
Left hook.
Uppercut.
Knee thrust.
Right punch.
Left sweep.
Palm thrust.
Jab.
Ax kick.
All attacks were attempted and thwarted by the members of the to-be-married couple. And while both were grinning, Richard's mind was racing.
When fighting someone, the person who has the advantage often is the one who plays poker. Being able to read a person's face cuts the element of surprise in half. Obviously, the more times you play against the same person, the easier it is to spot and decipher certain mannerisms.
Unfortunately, Richard has fought Kori only once before, and hasn't played poker with her at all. So, there were many possible reasons why he was able to escape Kori's next, sudden attack.
1) He was quick on the uptake and spotted a "tell".
2) He was already in-sync with Kori enough to know something big was coming.
3) Plain, pure chance.
4) Fast reflexes honed by skill and training
5) All of the above, or maybe...
6) Kori didn't wasn't to hurt him too bad and was slowing down deliberately.
She better not have, he thought, insulted and sort of touched at her consideration.
You see, the attack went down like this: Feign a sock to the stomach, then one to the head. While off guard, the intention was to stomp on the opponent's toes, knee him in the solar plexus, then kick him in the stomach as he reeled back. But as stated, Richard had dodged these. He had also had the "what if she's going easy on me?" idea during his dodging, and caught her leg as it was going for his stomach. He hauled her closer to find out the answer.
It was written all over her face.
"You're holding back."
"Yes."
"Don't."
She grinned. Then threw herself into a back flip, wrenching one leg free and connecting the other with the back of his skull.
Well, I asked for it.
He stumbled to his knees and dimly noticed over his abrupt headache Kori pressing her hands to the floor and landing in a crouch that would have been perfect if the plane hadn't hit a small spot of turbulence, throwing her off balance and ending with her catching herself on her left hand to prevent falling backwards. Her flailing right hand was about to help when Richard caught it with his own. Showing no mercy, he hooked his toe around her ankle and yanked her right leg from under her.
Off balance and about to fall, Kori thought quickly.
Tightening her grip on the hand that held her, she started to gain leverage, only to have Richard let go of her hand. Thinking even more quickly, Kori made lemonade.
As her weight fell back onto her left arm, she bent it as much as she could to absorb the shock, elbow nearly touching the floor. Then, pouring all her might into her arm, she dug her nails into the carpet, and like unlatching a tightly coiled spring within her elbow, launched herself back to her feet.
It was something you figured you would only see in the movies. It happened before Richard's very eyes and he still wasn't sure he believed it. In a plane at 30,000 feet, he witnessed a feat that while it seemed easy to do, was in reality near-impossible. Try doing a one handed push up that returns you to your feet. Then try to do it flipped over. That kind of strength is not easily obtained.
When she landed, she was face to face with Richard, who closed his wide-open mouth and said the only thing he could.
"Nice arm."
Breathing hard with exertion, Kori smiled, proud that she had done it and a little stunned that she could. But before she could respond, her opponent grabbed her arms and crossed them, pinning them to her sides.
After a few minutes of futile struggling, she blew an errant hair from her face and grinned, "I too admire your abundant limb strength."
Again, Richard's eyes went a little rounder than normal. Did she...really just say that?
Judging from the bright red hue adorning her face, she really had.
To avoid further charging the already electrical air, Kori threw herself forward, putting all the shoulder she could into it. Richard fell right on the floor, and Kori had the sketch of her wedding dress in hand before the "oof" left his lips. Realizing this, he scrambled to his feet and tore down the small corridor leading to the jet's bedroom, which was empty.
"Kori?"
"Whoooosh," the sound of a flushing toilet answered.
Gasping in dramatic horror, he jerked the bathroom door open and confirmed what he feared: Kori had flushed the drawing.
"NnnnnNOOOOOOOO!" he cried, sinking to his knees, fists raised to the heavens in denial.
"Richard, many of your ways are strange to me, but this is 'just plain freaky'."
"Oh Koriiii, how could youuuuuuu?"
"Was that beverage you were drinking by any chance alcoholic?"
Oh stinking man, this took so long. I'm sorry it did, but I hope this tides you over til the next chapter, which, unfortunately, will also take a long time in coming. I'm on severely rationed compy time (CURSE YOU PARENTAL UNIT!!) but I've taken to writing them on notebook paper like I used to. (And if yer wondering, this took 18 pages of college rulled paper. Yeah.)
Anyways, I'll get the next one up ASAP. The trip to Tamaran by no means stops here. And the next chapter includes Galfore and Blackfire, ...and a certain guy named Karras, hee hee hee.
L8r
SAT :)